


The Inception

by magicianparrish



Series: The Old Guard au [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ancient History, Death, F/F, Fighting, Immortality, Immortals, M/M, Minor Violence, The Old Guard AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicianparrish/pseuds/magicianparrish
Summary: Until she dreamt of a woman. It was like a godly vision bestowed upon her. The woman had long blonde hair that hung loosely around her shoulders and down her back. She had dark blue eyes, like the waters of the sea.It was in the flourishing town of Rayy, when he had the first dream. The dream had been so vivid it was as if he were there. It was of a man with brown skin, and eyes that shone like amber.They had all woken up in the middle of the night. Adam lit a small lantern for light and started to sketch as he always did. It was a young man. He had a scar over his right cheek and black hair that was unruly and covering parts of his eyes. He had a stern face, and was wearing some kind of military outfit.__________________________________________________________________________________________________Highly self-indulgent The Old Guard au. this is how they meet.
Relationships: Adam/Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Keith & Shiro, Keith & Shiro & Adam
Series: The Old Guard au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904683
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	The Inception

**Author's Note:**

> So, I watched the Old Guard movie and became very intrigued by the concept of it. I have written other parts of this which you can find on my tumblr, adashisoul. I will probably post them at some point, (if anyone wants it). But this is like an origin story for everyone! 
> 
> It's rated M, and has those warnings because these characters do die, and come back to life. There is nothing insanely graphic, but it's just a precaution. So please, read at your own risk! 
> 
> (Not beta'd or edited, so all mistakes are mine)

The first time Allura came back to life, it was professed to be a miracle from the gods. She had gotten sick with a nasty illness, one that swept through most of the city. It had given her a terrible fever, and chronic pain in the head and stomach. So much so that she had been bedridden for weeks. The physician that her father had, stayed by her side through night and day, monitoring her. Servants were barred from the room for fear of them getting infected and spreading it more than it already had. She hadn’t been able to see any of her family. From outside the wood door, she always heard her father talking to the physician in hushed voices. She could never make out what they said, as she had been too busy trying to remember to breathe. 

She had succumbed to the plague three weeks after she developed symptoms. It had been a peaceful death; in her sleep. When it happened, Allura hadn’t even known. She woke up to a sheet covering her body, and the weeps of her mother and aunts, and servants. Allura had let out a groan, her head aching as she slowly sat up. She had rubbed her eyes and blinked slowly to get her bearings. She heard her mother and the others scream. She was thanking the gods for the miracle and blessing. Her arms were thrown around Allura and she shook back and forth, tears streaming from her eyes. 

“What happened?” Allura had asked in confusion. 

“You died! You died, and I prayed to the gods to bring you back, and they did! They brought you back from the afterlife to me and your family!” her mother had sobbed. 

Allura had believed it. She had moved forward with her life as if it were normal again. She did her duties as a noblewoman but also practiced her skills with a bow when she could. For years, Allura thought nothing out of the ordinary about her dying and coming back to life. She was a miracle from the gods. A blessing. 

It was not until Egyptians from the north came down to raid her town that she had died again. And came back to life again. She had fought against the raiders, along with all the eligible men. She watched her father be struck down by a spear and die in the pool of his own blood. Her mother, along with the other women and children were taken hostage through the night never to be seen again, leaving only her and the ones left behind. She should have died on the field of battle that day. She had been struck with seven arrows through the chest and she felt herself hit the dirt with a finality. But then she had opened her eyes, and where the wounds should’ve been, they were gone like they were never there. 

Those who saw her get back to life, professed her to be a goddess roaming among them. For no mortal could escape death like that unless they were not. Allura did not know what she was, or why she had been blessed with this power. But she decided to use it for good. She watched over her people and guided them through hard times. She used her knowledge to help the future generations that came. The new people who migrated to live in more hospitable conditions, she welcomed with open arms. They helped rebuild her town from ruin. She stayed for hundreds of years, watching the sands of history fall. 

But soon she felt restless. Aimless. She had stayed to watch her people flourish, and they had, even under Egyptian rule. She fought for her people countless times, and emerged from the battlefield unscathed, except for the blood splattered on her body. But her heart felt empty. It had been for a long time. One day, she left the place she had always known and headed for the unknown. 

She explored for years, meeting new people, and having new experiences. She saw the grandeur of the Egyptians and their cities on the Nile, and grand pyramid tombs for their pharaohs. She saw the beautiful rivers of the Tigris and Euphrates and sailed the glittering waters of the Mediterranian. Though she saw many wonders, her heart still felt empty. 

Until she dreamt of a woman. It was like a godly vision bestowed upon her. The woman had long blonde hair that hung loosely around her shoulders and down her back. She had dark blue eyes, like the waters of the sea. Her face was pinched, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed and it was like she was looking right at Allura. She wore simple clothes, a white toga, and sandals. Allura had woken up with a gasp. She had never seen the woman before, and she had never had a dream so clear. 

It was when she dreamt of the woman again, she took it as a sign. Allura had made it her goal to find this mysterious woman. She continued her travels again, always looking for the blonde woman in simple clothes. It took her years. She went to every town and city and village. For the first time since she died on the dirt of Nubia, she felt truly alive. It was when she made it into a small town nestled on the banks of a river named Tiber, that she felt right. She was close, and she knew it. The dreams had come more frequently than ever. 

In the countryside just outside the small town, was where she found her. At the banks of the river Tiber, she was slowly washing her clothes alone. Allura gasped at the sight. It was her. The woman from her dreams. She had walked up to the woman who had not heard and put a hand on her shoulder. The woman screamed in surprise, and she whipped around and cut Allura in the arm with a small knife she had. Allura had backed away in shock, and the two of them watched as Allura’s arm healed in seconds. The woman’s eyes were even more beautiful in person, wide as a doe. 

“You…” she had said in a shaky voice. Allura had only come to grasp a little of the foreign language, but she understood. She shook her head. 

“Yes. The woman in my dream,” she said. 

The clothes she had been washing lay in the banks of the river. Allura knelt next to her and slowly picked them up and handed it to them. The woman’s chest was still heaving from the surprise of it all, but took the offer and started to get rid of the excess water. 

“Are you like me?” Allura had asked, pointing to herself and her arm where the cut had been. 

The woman looked away, her lips pursed and face pinched. Just like it had been the first time Allura had dreamt of her. She sighed and nodded. 

“Yes,” she muttered. She took out the small knife she had used on Allura, and cut herself on the neck. A stream of blood came gushing out and she choked and fell to the floor. Allura watched with a calm mind. The woman died surrounded by blood, but a few minutes later she saw her heal, and slowly she blinked her eyes open and sat back up. Allura nodded and gave her a small smile. 

“I am Allura,” she introduced. 

The woman smiled back. “Romelle.” 

Romelle the Sabine was the first to join the Old Guard, and the second known immortal. 

* * *

Takashi had always had the spirit of adventure. That’s what his mother had always told him anyway. He had not been born to live and die as a fisherman, as his father and grandfather had done. They had lived in a small coastal town, and he had spent the days out on the sea with other men, catching fish to sell and feed the families that lived there. It was hard work, but he did not mind the company. 

It had been luck, or perhaps happenstance when someone who had come from across the sea to visit, that he stopped at Takashi’s stand where he was selling his catch for the day. The man looked not much different than him, but it was quite obvious that he was from a different place and was an important person of some kind. And he knew the local language. The man had stared at Takashi for a long while, his eyes narrowed. He only raised his eyebrows at the foreign man. 

“You don’t belong here,” he had declared. 

Takashi had been taken aback. “Excuse me?” 

“I can see it,” the man had said. “The spark. You have it. Just like I did.” 

“What does that mean?” Takashi asked, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“The _spark_ ,” the man repeated as if it were obvious. “You long for adventure. And I can give it to you.” 

Takashi’s curiosity was piqued. He stared at the man in his odd clothes, and the odd way he spoke. It became obvious that the man lived out on the sea as Takashi looked harder at him. His face was well weathered from days out in the sun and the salty sea. He was a merchant of some kind. 

“How so?” 

The man gave Takashi a small smile. “Join my crew as a seaman. It doesn’t pay well, but you will see places you can only imagine in your dreams.” 

Takashi hummed. “I’d have to think about it.” 

“You have until sunrise tomorrow, son,” the merchant said before he walked away leaving Takashi alone. 

Takashi went back home to his family that night and told them everything. He felt a weight on his heart as he thought about it. He longed for a life beyond the small village, but he did not wish to leave his family behind. His mother had moved closer to him, and put a small hand on his cheek. Her weathered face, strong after all these years. Her brown eyes clear and sharp as he ever remembered them being. The small flames of the hearth in their small yurt lighting her face gently. 

“You have the spirit of adventure in you,” she whispered. “When you do, you must go to the call. Else you will never live.” 

His father had looked down in the flames, his face a blank mask. After a moment he let out a sigh. “She is right. Go with the merchant. You will be much happier if you do.” 

“What about you?” Takashi had asked, tears in his eyes. 

“Do not fret about us. We will be okay,” his mother had said. His father nodded in agreement. 

That night, Takashi packed the little things he had and said goodbye to his family. At sunrise, he met the merchant at the docks, and his life of adventure began. The merchantman had been right. It did not pay well to be a crewman on a trading vessel. But Takashi saw more than he ever dreamed. It was when the taste of the sea did not fill him anymore, that he left to take his abilities elsewhere. He began his own life as a merchant on land, following the paths that had been carved out by those in the past and the present. It was there that he felt his heart become full again. He met people of all cultures and began trading in things such as silk, and porcelain from the Three Kingdoms. He also became rich in knowledge, or a world he hadn’t even known existed. Of new religions such as Judaism, Buddhism, Hinduism Christianity, and Zoroastrianism, among others, and empires that spanned thousands of miles and ruled thousands of people of different cultures. His entire world expanded a hundredfold, and he had never been more thankful than that he had left his small fishing village behind. The world was full of beautiful people, and places, and animals, and so rich in history. 

But even then, he felt the feeling of being unsatisfied creep into his heart. He wished for more, though he could not imagine what more there was to offer. He had everything and then some he had ever wanted. More than he could’ve ever dreamed. Than any of his ancestors would have dreamed. He came from a simple village with a simple way of life. The outside world was anything but simple. He had money, coins that had various rulers and deities of all kinds minted on them. People he had never even known existed, but had conquered the world. Some days it left him breathless. 

It was in the flourishing town of Rayy, when he had the first dream. The dream had been so vivid it was as if he were there. It was of a man with brown skin, and eyes that shone like amber. He wore a simple long sleeve tunic that had been dyed a dark red that went to his knees. Underneath was a pair of light trousers tucked into knee-length leather boots. He had a light orange turban that wrapped tightly around his head, only giving a peek of his hair, which shined like bronze. In his hand was a torch-lit with fire, while the other held a sword in the other. He turned his head, and his eyes seemed to have burned a hole right into Takashi’s mind. He narrowed his eyes and then turned to shout something in Bactrian before running away and disappearing in smoke. It was then that Shiro woke up in a cold sweat. 

For weeks, the mystery man haunted his dreams. And then two women joined him. They were always together in his dreams. One had dark skin, but beautiful white hair that looked like a cloud behind her. Her eyes were always fierce and she held herself in confidence. Always at her side was another woman; she had lighter skin, and blonde hair and sharp blue eyes like the ocean. Like the man, it seemed as if they could see Takashi, and were looking into his heart. They always disappeared before he could get the chance to try and speak. 

The three of them followed Takashi wherever he went. He had come to expect to see their faces when he closed his eyes to sleep at night. But they became a familiar presence to him over time. Though he never got more than just a few glimpses, he was glad to have them. But he wanted to know why. Who were they? Why did they keep coming into his dreams? What did they want? 

He soon found out. He had been crossing the silk roads again, as he had always done the past years. But wars were brewing. In every city he stopped, it was all the talk among the nobles and the merchants. The Sasanians were gearing up to invade the slowly crumbing Kushans. And if it were true, the new king, Shapur was always looking for volunteers to fight for the cause. Being a lowly soldier never paid well, Takashi knew, but the feeling that he had been escaping had come back. He needed a new path, and perhaps that would be it. 

He never considered himself a particularly violent man. He got into the occasional skirmishes with other merchants who tried to play him off, or if they’ve had a few drinks in them. But even he could not escape the zest of war when it came knocking on his door. Shapur I annexed the eastern part of the Kushan Empire, and that led to bloody battles between the two parties. 

It was in the heat of battle, that he was struck by a familiar face. He wore the same clothes, but his turban was an of off white color. A thin beard covered his face, where in the dreams he was always clean-shaven. But Takashi would recognize those amber eyes anywhere. He pauses, but the man of his dreams did not and fatally stabbed Takashi through the sternum, and in reflex, Takashi swiped at his throat. They both crumbled and died before their bodies hit the dirt below them. 

But then he woke up. It felt as if his insides were on fire, and he let out a groan of agonizing pain. He realizes that it is quiet. He slowly blinked his eyes open to see that the sun had started to set. He sat up and put his hand to his stomach and saw that where there should have been blood there was none but the dried stain left. He had survived, and more he had healed completely. Next to him, the mysterious man let out a cry as he sat up to cough and hold his throat. The cut that had been fatal was now sealed shut. His turban had started to unravel, revealing more of his bronze hair. Takashi watched as he blinked slowly, just as he had done moments earlier, taking deep breaths. When he looked up, he made eye contact with Takashi for the first time. His amber eyes widened in shock and he gasped. 

“It cannot be,” he muttered in Bactrian. “I stabbed you.” 

“And I cut your throat, and yet we still live,” Takashi responded back. 

The man looked around at their surroundings. The dead had already started to be taken away by their sides. They had woken up before it had been their turn. The stench of blood and death lingered heavily in the air. It made Takashi feel sick. 

“You are the man from my dreams,” he finally said, his voice hoarse. 

Takashi nodded. “Yes. I have dreamt of you too. I am glad we finally met.” 

He gave the man a small smile, but he did not return it. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing him. 

“I am Takashi,” he introduced. “Who are you?” 

The man waited a long moment. “Adam.” 

Takashi from a small fisherman village on the island of Kyushu was the second to join the Old Guard, and the third known immortal. Adam from the city of Alexandria in Arachosia was the third to join the Old Guard, and the fourth known immortal. 

* * *

It was around eight hundred years before they found the next immortal. Adam and Takashi had traveled on their own for a few decades before Allura and Romelle finally found them. And when they did, the dreams had stopped. The four of them formed the Old Guard. Fighting battles for humanity, to protect it from destroying itself. They always found themselves in the crux of important places at important times, gently altering history for the better before disappearing into the shadows. It was the way it was meant to be. The four of them had formed a family; a bond so tight it could never be broken. They helped each other ease the burdens of living forever. Watching time pass by slowly as they never died or seemed to age. No one in the world knew their struggles, except each other. And they helped shoulder that weight together so no one would die from underneath it. They held the Atlas burden of the sky together. 

They had all been in a little house just outside of Bordeaux when they had all woken up from a dream. Adam had jumped up from the bed he shared with Takashi, and got out a piece of parchment and charcoal. They all watched as Adam began to sketch the man they had seen in their dreams with vivid detail. Over the years, drawing and sketching had become one of Adam’s favorite pastimes. He often sketched what he saw around him, but his favorite model was his lover Takashi. Allura would have rolled her eyes if she didn’t understand where they were coming from. For centuries it had been just her and Romelle, roaming the earth trying to figure out why they were placed here, with the gift they had. Allura had come to love Romelle more than anything in her life. They held a bond closer than anyone, besides Adam and Takashi could understand. 

In the dream, it was another man. He had a dark skin complexion, similar to Allura’s. He wore very simple clothes made of wool and a brown chaperon over his head. He was tall, almost as tall as Adam, but had lithe muscle from working on a farm. His face was regal looking, and he had startling blue eyes that pierced the soul. In the dream, all he did was raise his eyebrows, and he said something in Arabic before he turned around and walked away, turning to mist. Just as it had been all the other times. 

Adam had finished the sketch and put the piece of paper down on the wooden table. It was an almost perfect rendition of the man. Allura would always be impressed by his skill and memory. But, Adam had studied to be a scholar before he went to fight for his empire, and continued his studies wherever he went. The man had the best memory of them all. 

“He spoke something in Arabic,” Takashi said. 

They all nodded. “Yes, and he was wearing simple clothes. He is a peasant,” Romelle added. 

“So that narrows it down to the Caliphates. But which one?” Allura wondered. 

Adam gave a small smile. “Well, it’s time we get searching.” 

They split up to cover more ground. And it had been Adam and Takashi who found him first. He had been in a small village just outside of Larida. The man was named Curtis. He worked on a small farm and had already died before they met him. There had been a small famine that ripped through the area. He and his family had not been able to grow and produce enough food for them to eat, and they had starved. But after he had died, he had awoken again. He had cried and mourned for the loss of his family, asking God why he was left to live on. He went back to work, harder than ever to appease his God and to make up for what he had lost. Adam and Takashi had found him at the perfect time. They explained his situation, comforted him with the knowledge that he was not alone in the world. And they took him in as one of their own after. 

Curtis de Acosta, a Catholic man from a small village outside of Larida, in the Caliphate of Cordoba, was the fifth known immortal, and the fourth to join the Old Guard. 

* * *

The next time they dream, it was even longer between finding another one of them. In the time between, they also lost two of their own, shaking the foundations of which they had built themselves. They had learned they were not truly immortal as they thought they were. They lost Curtis during the bloodbath of St. Bartholomew massacre in France in 1572. It had been a devastating blow, as Curtis lay on the streets as his wounds ceased to heal up. Takashi and Adam had been right at his side as he died. They shared a single whispered prayer between them, a soft act they did as a comfort to each other. Adam had run his hand through Curtis’ hair, and they each kissed Curtis’s hand gently as they watched the life go out of his blue eyes forever. 

In the early 1600s, Allura and Romelle had been captured while in hiding. They had laid low, in the countryside of England. Adam and Takashi had still been mourning over the loss of Curtis at that point, and had stayed separated from the two of them, but always nearby. In the middle of the night, their door had been busted down and an angry mob swarmed them, and locked them in chains, claiming that they were witches and heathens. They were quickly tried and sentenced to death by hanging. An unusual form of death for witches. They both lived and then survived again, as they couldn’t die yet, causing gasps of horror to erupt from the crowd of spectators. The priest chanted in Latin verses from the Bible and had then chained and thrown back in a cell again. 

They were both filthy and they looked a mess, but Allura wouldn’t have it any other way. She had leaned closer to put her head on Romelle’s shoulder, and Romelle on top of her’s. 

“Here till the end?” Romelle asked with a small smile. 

“Always,” Allura had answered. “I love you.” 

They turned to each other, only the torch giving them light to see each other. They shared a kiss that sent warmth through Allura’s body even after all those years. The door opened as they parted lips, to see the priest holding a cross in front of him and a small entourage. He nodded towards Romelle. 

“Take her,” he commanded. Two men walked up and took her by the arms and dragged her away. 

Outside was a metal coffin, with a mouth and eye holes. Allura’s eyes widened and her heart rate spiked. 

“No!” she screamed. “No! No! No!” 

Romelle started to scream as well as she saw her fate. 

“If the rope cannot kill you, a watery grave certainly will,” the priest sneered. 

“No! Romelle!” Allura sobbed. 

“Allura! Allura! I love you!” 

The men pushed her into the coffin and sealed it shut. Cheers from onlookers came about as they loaded it onto a ship. Allura had tears streaming down her face, as she screamed her throat raw. Soon she passed out from exhaustion, and when she woke up she was being rescued by Adam and Takashi who looked stricken with newfound grief. 

It was two hundred years later when the next face emerged. They had traveled across the sea into the new land. This young country, the United States of America. They had landed in Ellis Island and had forged new documents and identities for each other so they could get in undetected. It was then that Takashi had decided to go by Shiro, taking up the surname Shirogane. Allura’s new identity involved having the last name as well, Altea, the ancient and unknown name of the small village she had grown up in so many centuries ago. Adam had used Wali, a fun play on an Islamic name for a saint, or helper. 

It was hard to keep up with all the new advances the world was giving. They stayed in a tenement home in Manhattan, living with the new immigrants who arrived looking for a better life. They stayed low, blending in with the crowd. The slums of New York City were not anything new to the three of them, though it hurt to see the people suffering. 

They had all woken up in the middle of the night. Adam lit a small lantern for light and started to sketch as he always did. To Allura’s slight annoyance, it was yet another man who had been discovered as one of them. Adam finished the sketch and put it on the table for them to crowd around. 

It was a young man. He had a scar over his right cheek and black hair that was unruly and covering parts of his eyes. He had a stern face and was wearing some kind of military outfit. Allura narrowed her eyes at him. 

“Fuck he’s just a baby,” she said quietly. 

Adam and Shiro nodded in agreement. He couldn’t have been older than twenty. Too young to be involved in this. 

“Well, I did read in the papers that we are gearing up for a war against Mexico,” Adam said. “I bet he’ll be there somewhere.” 

Shiro sighed. “Well, I guess we’re moving. I’ll miss this city.” 

“No you won’t,” Adam said, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It smells. But the people are great!”

They travel across the continent to Texas. It is there that they find the new people who had moved west settling in for their new lives, and the native Mexicans waiting to fight for their homeland. The air is dry and it’s much hotter than New York. Allura did not like it. 

“When was the last time we felt heat like this?” Shiro joked with a smile. 

“We were spoiled by European weather,” Adam said. “But this reminds me of home.” 

Allura barely remembered her own home. What were the people like? Was it ever that hot? Probably, given the proximity to the Sahara. But as the years pass, and she still lives, it gets harder to remember. 

They find their new member shortly after he is shot for crimes, including spying for the Mexican Army. They save him before they could bury him in an unmarked grave somewhere in Texas. When he awoke, he cursed in three different languages, holding his chest with his hand. When he realized there was no blood or bullet, or bullet hole he blinked. A similar reaction they all had once upon a time. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Yeah that’s generally the first thought,” Shiro said, shrugging his shoulders while eating a piece of cooked rabbit. 

The man’s eyes, which are a purplish hue widen and he scampers backward. “Who the fuck are you guys?” 

“Relax, we’re not going to kill you,” Adam said, poking at the fire with a stick, keeping the flames going. “Though, it seems we can’t anyway.” 

Adam and Shiro shared a small, secretive smile between the two of them. Allura rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” he bit out. He then unholstered a gun and aimed it at them. 

“We rescued you, no need to be hostile,” Shiro said with his eyebrows raised. 

“You’re strangers, who took me out into the middle of nowhere. I think I have a perfectly good reason to be hostile.” 

Shiro sighed. “I’m Shiro, this is Adam, that’s Allura. We’re immortal like you, so now you’ve joined the family! There, now we are no longer strangers.” 

“What?” he sputtered. 

Adam waved the stick at the man. “It’s rude not to introduce yourself you know.” 

The man looked between the two of them. “I’m Keith. Keith Kogane.” 

“Nice to meet you, Keith. Now if you could put the gun away, I’d really appreciate that.” 

Keith hesitated for a moment but did so. Then he came over and sat down on a log close to the fire. 

“So who are you people again?” he asked. 

“We’re sometimes known as the Old Guard. A group of immortals tasked with saving humanity from itself,” Shiro said. Then he took out a flask and popped it open before offering it over. “Whiskey? Seems like you could use some.” 

Keith took the flask and looked inside. Shiro chuckled. “It’s the good shit, I promise.” 

Keith took a sip and winced before giving it back. “Thanks. So you call yourselves the Old Guard. And I’m here, why?” 

“Because you’re one of us,” Allura finally said. “You died, and you came back to life. And will continue to do so forever.” 

“What?” 

Allura sighed and pointed to his chest. “You got shot today, correct?” 

“Yes. But-” 

Allura put her hand up to silence him. “And yet you live. And if I shot you in the head right now, you would come back to life in a few minutes.” 

“Seriously?” 

Adam reached over Shiro and took the gun from Keith. He uncocked it and smiled at his soulmate. 

“Sorry love, gotta prove a point,” Adam apologized. Then he shot Takashi blank, which elicited a scream from Keith. 

A moment later Shiro was back rubbing his head. “Fuck that hurts.” 

Adam threw the gun behind him and rubbed Shiro’s back. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” 

Keith’s eyes were wide and his mouth open. “You-, you just shot him! In the head! And-, and,” he stuttered. 

“And he came back to life. See what I mean? We can’t die,” Allura said. “Welcome to the club.” 

Keith Kogane, born in First Mexican Empire, became the sixth known immortal, and the fifth person to join the Old Guard. 

* * *

It would be a hundred and seventy-three years later when they all dream in a boxcar somewhere outside of Juba, of their next member. A young man, in an American marine uniform, named Lance McClain. The seventh known immortal, and the sixth person to join the Old Guard. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in about 6 hours, and most of it was because I was doing research on these places lmao. It's definitely not 100% historically accurate but aw well. 
> 
> If you want more of this au, you can find it on my tumblr adashisoul. And if you want, I can post more if it on here too! 
> 
> Please leave a comment down below, because they keep me alive :)


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